Walked into my mom’s room today. Didn’t expect the furniture to be gone already. I had packed most of her belongings, gave away some and kept the rest. But to walk into an empty room which once held her treasured things–now lay bare. Those things now sit in my garage waiting for the time where I can bravely sift through it all at my own pace.
Caught off guard, the tears began to flow. The silence, oh the deafening silence. I know some who take years to go through the personal belongings of their loved ones. For me it was something I had to do. Something I needed to do. And now that it’s done I’m wondering did I rush through it too fast? Should I have waited?
I don’t know if a year, a month, a decade would make any difference. I just knew I had to do it. I had to take that step towards maintaining my sanity. Coming to that house will no longer mean making a beeline to her room. Where taking naps before grad school class across her bed was a weekly comfort. Where the blue comfy chair was where I sat near her bedside. Where her wooden armoire and dresser held old awards, report cards, and doilies from Haiti.
It’s tough, yeah it is. When all the stuff is parceled away, you’ve got nothing but the memories to hold you together.